


Testament

by roxyryoko



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Image, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Post-Canon, Scars, Smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: “It’s definitely going to scar.”“Ah, so what if it does?” He shrugged it off infuriatingly easily and set about returning the needle and bandages to the medical satchel. The fire cast an orange glow on his visage, highlighting his own cuts and bruises.Hilda hates her scars, but Caspar thinks they prove how amazing she is.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	Testament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightMereBear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightMereBear/gifts).



> This is part of a drabble exchange with friends. Nightmerebear’s prompt was “Aftermath.” Please enjoy!

Hilda clutched tightly to Caspar, trembling against his chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she held her breath as he pressed the tip of a needle against her shoulder. He pushed it through, trying his best to weave the two gaping halves of flesh back together. A new tear shed from her eye and her body tensed. The second stitch was just as shaky and uncertain, and unfortunately for Hilda, Caspar fumbled and poked crooked.

And _deep_.

“Ouch!” she cried, wrenching her eyes shut and digging her nails into his back. “It’s going to scar if you don’t close it correctly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, guilt saturating his tone. “You’re a lot better at this kind of stuff than me.”

His pace slowed, but his hands continued to quiver as he threaded the wound closed. Hilda bit her tongue to hold back a whimper for every puncture he made, both rightly placed ones and mistakes.

A chill wind blew, whipping the campfire into a dance. Hilda tried to take her mind off the torment by gazing into it, hoping to be entranced by its flickering flames. She held tighter to Caspar, drawing in his body heat. However, neither hypnosis nor the comforting warmth of his embrace provided much escape.

Another stitch. Another sharp pain. She gritted her teeth and shook them both.

“Caspar!” she pleaded, drawing out every sound of his name. “Please tell me you’re almost done.”

He paused and hesitated a moment before responding, “Yeah, almost.”

He never had been a good liar.

Hilda heaved a frustrated wail and buried her face against his neck. Before pressing the needle into her skin again, he gave her a reassuring squeeze and repeated, “Almost.”

She endured the torture for what seemed like forever, but finally Caspar knotted the thread and bit off the excess. Hilda released her death grip on him, dabbed her eyes, and immediately inspected his handiwork, craning her neck to see to her side. Gently, she followed the circumference of her shoulder, gliding her fingers across the stitches. They were crooked with gaps of various lengths between them. Blood oozed out from the punctures.

“It’s definitely going to scar.”

“Ah, so what if it does?” He shrugged it off infuriatingly easily and set about returning the needle and bandages to the medical satchel. The fire cast an orange glow on his visage, highlighting his own cuts and bruises.

“It’s not cute or sexy.” He couldn’t see her pout, but she hoped he heard her dismay.

“Says who?”

“ _Me_.”

He looked up and regarded her a moment before offering another shrug. “Whatever. I like you no matter what. Scars or not.”

She groaned. “You just don’t understand the delicacies of being a lady, Caspar.”

Caspar shifted and placed his palm upon the wound, his large hand easily covering it completely. She glanced up and the tightness of his brows startled her.

“Hilda, I don’t care about some stupid scar,” he said somberly. “You could have lost your arm.”

Warmth washed over the skin beneath his touch and slowly expanded outward. The healing spell tingled down to the tips of her fingers.

It wasn’t very powerful. Neither of them had ever excelled in magic, but the flesh knitted together a little more and the bleeding ceased—a few days worth of natural healing condensed into moments.

Still, she frowned at it and then covered it with her hand. “This is almost as bad as losing an arm.”

"Look," Caspar sighed in exasperation. He lifted up his shirt, revealing a large burn scar that covered most of his lower abdomen. 

“I got this one at Myrddin when I pushed Bernadetta out of the way of some big guy with this giant lance. Took it like a champ, of course, but he got me good.” Caspar’s voice grew with excitement as he recalled the story. “Totally thought I was gonna bleed to death then and there, but the guy was back at Bernadetta, so I—“

“You cauterized the wound with magic,” Hilda interrupted, rolling her eyes.

He let the fabric of his shirt fall.

“I was there, Caspar.” Even if she wasn’t, he’d only told the story a thousand times. “I was there when Manuela tried to fix up what you did, too.”

He frowned, surely disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm. “Point is I got ten times more scars than you and you don’t mind them, right?

“Yeah,” she huffed, “but that’s different. Big, ugly scars aren’t befitting a dainty noblewoman.”

Caspar scooted closer to her and tossed the satchel on the grass. Cautiously, he peeled her hand away from the injury.

“I think,” he countered with a grin, “they prove how tough and fierce and amazing you are. I think that’s pretty hot. It’s proof that you fought with all your spirit.”

“I didn’t though. I just messed up and got myself hurt. I was careless just like Holst always says.”

Caspar pressed his lips to the top of her shoulder, causing her to squirm and release a frustrated sound. “Come on, careless? Really? You got nothing on me with that. And you completely saved my skin.”

With his thumb, he lightly traced a spot on her clavicle where he knew makeup hid an old lance wound. She twitched uncomfortably. He glanced at her, but she turned to the fire.

“Besides, it connects us," he added. "I’ve gotten scars protecting you and I’m proud of them.”

He leveled his head with hers, grazing his lips along her cheek to the shell of her ear. “They’re testaments of how much you mean to me,” he whispered sweetly.

Hilda tilted her head and groaned. Pink eyes met cyan. “Ugh, when you say it like _that!”_ She nudged her nose against his. “I guess I can live with just this _one_. To remind _you_ that I did you the biggest, most hugest favor in my life, that I’m definitely never ever doing again.”

Not hiding her miff, she pecked him roughly on the cheek. “Because I love you _that_ much, Caspar.”

Caspar chuckled warmly and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You know, when you saved my ass, you looked _so_ cool. The way you cleaved that guy’s leg right off and how you spun around and kicked the other guy and—“

She kissed him on the other cheek, cutting him off before he got too carried away with his recounting.

“Anyway,” he added a bit sheepishly, “it was really badass. I gotta say…I was pretty 'smitten'.”

A soft shade of pink colored his cheeks.

Hilda giggled and laced her arms around his neck, causing him to flush more. “Oh, really?”

He smirked. “Yeah, really, _really_ smitten.”

“Guess that makes two of us,” Hilda hummed, closing her eyes and ghosting her mouth atop his own. “You looked really valiant when you swooped in and saved that little girl. I was swooning.”

His smile stretched wide and crooked for a moment before he eagerly captured her mouth. She welcomed the intimacy and parted her lips to trade deep, passionate kisses. Strong, warm hands tugged her closer, and she let her fingers explore the dips of his muscular back, touch feather-light to not irritate his many bruises. His kiss grew increasingly persistent, pressing more and more enthusiastically as they sipped and weaved their lips together.

Eventually Caspar pulled away breathless with that same stupid grin and began to fumble for one of their traveling cloaks that had been discarded for medical attention.

Excitedly, he chortled, “Now that you’re all patched up, I think I know another favor I can do for you.”

The fire crackled besides them, washing them in the subtle warmth of its glow as Caspar threw the cloak across her shoulders. Before she could register the comfort provided by the drape of the fabric, he gathered her in his arms again, pulling her to the ground and into his zealous kiss.


End file.
